41

Recently, someone asked me how old I am. It felt strange hearing the number “41” roll off my tongue. I am officially in my 40s now and there is no more denying it. Women in my family have proclaimed their forties as the best decade of their lives, but so far, I’m not feeling it. Hitting the big 4-0 last year was rather difficult for me. Yes, 2018 was a wonderful year for me. The year was filled with lots of family time, travel, and new adventures and experiences, but internally I just felt all out of sorts. I had to cope with unexplained health issues and repeated visits to the doctor; woke up each day with what seemed like a new ache, pain, or stomach roll; dealt with lost jobs and friendships; and struggled as a parent of two middle schoolers who often squabbled with each other and with me as they started to barrel toward adolescence while I attempted to pull them back to childhood. I’m sorry to say that not much has changed thus far in 2019 except maybe my attitude. I turned 41 on the first of this New Year and decided right then and there to climb out of my funk. Middle age is definitely no joke, but I need to embrace it because it is here whether I like it or not. So, for my 41st year, I’m welcoming new adventures and new challenges with what I hope will be a more positive frame of mind as I try to figure out this new stage of life and I invite my readers to come along for the ride.